


Snowed In

by Saturn_the_Almighty



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Canon-typical language, Cold Weather, Crying, Darryl out here being a kickass wingman, Engagement, Experimental writing, F/F, Gay Shit™, Gifts, M/M, Marriage Proposal, No Dialogue, Religious Diversity, Secret Santa, Team Bonding, backstories, headcanons, in a throwaway line lol, the triplets - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-09-04 22:28:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16798288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saturn_the_Almighty/pseuds/Saturn_the_Almighty
Summary: Enigma 8 had never been and was never going to be a comfortable place to live. It was covered in ice and snow, never quite reached above 55 degrees on the warmest days and the only native things to eat were deadly ice-raccoons. Enigma 8 was home to six people who needed each other like budding flowers needed the sunlight.





	1. Expensive Compressed Carbon

**Author's Note:**

> The Triplets don't get enough love.
> 
> Featuring my 100% self-indulgent rarepairs, Darryl/Ezra and Mike/Terrill. Why not, y'know?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Vera, will you marry me?"

Agent Iowa had dropped his codename only a few weeks into their stay across from the scarlet insurrectionists. He refused to answer to Iowa anymore, said that he liked his own name and it didn't really matter now that they weren't part of Project Freelancer. Idaho gave him extra points for fully understanding that they'd been essentially disowned and started calling him Mike again. Ohio found it to be a personal affront to her and the mission she had given the three of them on their first day at the base. They were _supposed_ to be making sure the Reds didn't do anything suspicious. And shoot them non-fatally, if nessecary. Giving them an advantage was out of the question.

Agent Ohio didn't call her teammate by his name. He didn't speak to her for four days after that and Ohio hated to admit that she missed his voice but it was true and she needed to make it up to him. They only had eachother, after all. The Triplets weren't The Triplets if they didn't work together. Ohio asked Mike to get a new container of condensed milk from the top shelf of the kitchen cabinet. She was too short to reach it so she asked him to get it for her, bookending her question with his name.

Mike started talking to her again while she ate stale cereal with her condensed milk and she got a few useful bits of information. Apparently, during the four days that Mike went quiet, he learned that he could see right into the Reds' base from his bedroom window. Ohio also learned that Terrill taught Mike Morse Code from across the bridge. His bedroom window was evidently what Mike had been looking at the whole time. Ohio had never seen Terrill without armor, all she knew about him was hat he was the shortest of the Reds. Darryl being the tallest, and a quite impressive height at that, if Ohio was being honest. Sherry was a few inches taller than Ohio but she still towered over poor Terrill.

Mike told her he had blonde hair and cool scar that cut through his mouth and over his nose. Mike said he looked like an action movie star. That night, as Ohio walked around the base securing all the doors, Idaho told her he wanted to go for supplies in the morning. Ohio's face darkened and she told him to bring his tactical knife, just in case. The deadly ice-raccoons were getting bolder.

* * *

Idaho got tired of the potato jokes after the seventeenth one in a single morning. Ohio was relentless. He though it must be a coping mechanism. He wanted his name back, had always loved the way it sounded. Ezra. Like a prince's name, something elegant and cool about it. He wanted Ohio to call him Ezra again. Mike did, late at night when his fingers got cold and he tiptoed into Ezra's bedroom to ask him to warm them. Mike got it. He understood. Oxygen deprivation hadn't made him _completely_ stupid. Mike knew how much a name could mean.

In truth, aside from him tiring of the jokes, Ezra went on a supply run solely because he knew one of the Reds was going too. Clearly, Terrill didn't know how to keep his mouth shut, even in Morse Code.

Calling it a supply run made it sound like it was a scheduled drop specifically for them. Half of it was true, it was scheduled. The Reds had discovered a huge research base a few miles from their own, supposed to have forty scientists housed inside. Whatever company was funding them sent bimonthly drops of the most decadent food and hygiene products they could get. Ezra assumed the scientists must have been fancy motherfuckers.

He wouldn't know, however. They were all dead when the Reds discovered them. Their benefactors didn't get the memo because they kept sending things on schedule. No one on the planet now was complaining. Regular drops were a blessing none of them were going to take for granted. Everything in the crates came back to the bases, no exceptions. They'd trade certain things if there was anything special but usually Ezra and Ohio got to share the best shampoo and conditioner, but only because they had long hair that needed 'special attention', according to Sherry.

Food was distributed as evenly as they could, but everyone knew the others were slipping chocolate into their sleeves and wouldn't share with anyone. Ezra always hoped he'd someday find almond butter in a drop. So far he'd only gotten peanut butter and almond milk. Not even raw almonds. God knew he'd fucking make his own almond butter if he found any. Today, though, trudging through the snow with an empty sled tied to his back, he found something better than almond butter.

He was right about the Reds coming to get the drop too. Hell, he was even right about _who_ was coming. he just... Didn't expect to see Darryl frowning at a crack in the ice, helmet in one hand and the other on his hip.

Ezra could have guessed by the sound of his voice, god his fucking voice. Like dark chocolate, smooth and rich and his voice wasn't the only thing about him like dark chocolate holy shit. He was like a classical painting or like, one of those ancient statues of the hot naked dudes with the chiseled jaws and high cheekbones. Ezra had half a mind to find the Pantone color for his rich dark skin because damn, that man needed a classical painting of himself, Ezra was sure of it. Deep green eyes, piercing and alert, framed by thick eyelashes that matched his coal black hair, cropped short to regulation length, of course, he should have known. Darryl was staring at him now and Ezra wished his power armor would let his knees buckle, it would cement the scene as super cheesy love at first sight bullshit.

Love was a strong word. Ezra was still at the aesthetic attraction stage. Not for much longer, though, his smile- Shit, Ezra was gonna faint.

He almost missed Darryl's question, being so deeply lost in thought. Luckily, Ezra was inclined to pay attention at the sound of his voice. Darryl was asking him for help, to which Ezra replied that he'd love nothing more and pranced over to stand next to Darryl and stare into the ice crack with him. Darryl put his helmet back on, to Ezra's quiet dismay, but it only increased when his gaze zeroed in on the supply crate settled at the bottom of the crevasse. Darryl rolled his shoulders, which was an unfairly hot move on his part, even with armor on. He then made quick work climbing down into the crevasse in heaving the crate up over his head, wedging it against the ice so it didn't fall on him.

Ezra laid down on his stomach and dangled his arms down to grab the crate which he would have never been able to pick up in a million years if not for the hydraulic assist in his armor. He slid it across the ice away from the crevasse and turned back to help Darryl out. He happily accepted Ezra's arms and essentially climbed him like a length of rope to get back up. Hey, Ezra wasn't complaining.

He still resented the armor between them.

* * *

When they got back to the bases with a supply crate full of who-knew-what the rest of their teams were already gathered on the bridge. Ezra could feel a glare coming from Ohio and he subconsciously scooted a few inches away from Darryl. As per usual, they spent about a half hour arguing over who should be the one to open the crate, and by that time it started to snow. Sherry was the first one to nudge Terrill and point off into the distance, towards a wall of white coming towards them. A blizzard. They all snapped to attention, Mike dragged the crate towards the Blues' base, Darryl sprinted inside the Reds' to barricade it closed and the rest of them followed the crate. They were still going to open it, just inside. No one was stupid enough to brave the weather outside.

Darryl joined the rest shortly, snow dusting his armor as he shook off his helmet and stomped his boots free of any clinging ice. The Blues had ditched their armor for warm clothes and blankets but the Reds were stripped down to their undersuits and still shivering. Naturally they all raided Mike's closet, he being the biggest of the Blues, and promised to give him his clothes back at some point.

Gathered in the common room around the crate and wrapped in wool and warmth, Ohio popped the clasps on the crate and lifted the lid. A sound escaped her lips, somewhere between a strangled cough and a delighted gasp. She pushed the lid onto the ground and the Blues crowded around, oohing and ahhing like they were in a gameshow and the host just announced the grand prize. Holiday gifts were a grand prize, in a way. Something they never got in Freelancer.

Ohio frantically dug to the bottom of the crate, searching for their regular supplies. The tension let out of her shoulders when she realized that there were only a few gifts, the rest was just as it should be. That was when Mike mentioned that he wanted to open one of the gifts from the pile that now laid on the floor. The dead scientists probably weren't going to.

Sherry mentioned that it could be like Secret Santa, except no one knew what the gifts were. It turned out she was the only one who celebrated Christmas for a religious reason, it meant something other than gifts, and the five other people sitting around her had never actually played the game. she took it upon herself to randomly divide up the gifts and present them personally to everyone.

She picked a box wrapped in tasteful burgundy paper and handed it to Ohio with a wink, at which Ohio wrinkled her nose but took the box anyway. No one missed the smile she tried to hide behind her hair as she tore the paper off and reached for the lid of the small box. She had only opened a few gifts in her lifetime, most being birthday gifts, but even those stopped after freelancer. And then her heart practically stopped when she peered inside the box.

A pair of brand-new, pale pink silk ballet pointe shoes were sitting at the bottom. Ohio had half a mind to chuck the box at the farthest wall, but the expectant and partially confused faces of her teammates (and the Reds) made her think again. It was just a coincidence. The gift wasn't even for her, she just had the bad luck of being the one to open it. It's not like Sherry even knew about her past, how could she? Unless Mike was gossiping with Terrill in morse code again, in which case he'd probably have a pair of broken kneecaps pretty soon, that was not okay.

But even if Sherry had somehow found out that Ohio was never going to be able to dance again, much less en pointe, how could she know what was in the box? Right. Coincidence. Ohio had no reason to get defensive of angry or- or just start crying because the shoes were so pretty and she couldn't wear them because of her stupid legs and now stupid Sherry was giving her this look, like she wanted to hug Ohio and make it all okay, except a hug wouldn't fix her bones, not when even super advanced modern medicine couldn't.

But a hug would be nice. Ohio couldn't remember the last time she got a hug, because no one would even so much as touch her back in Freelancer. She had learned soon enough that human contact was pretty rare and that sucked for her, because she was always reaching out for someone, craving others' warmth, needing that pat on the back or hand against her arm but never getting it.

Ohio left the box on the ground and forgot everything else around her as she wrapped herself in Sherry's arms and closed her eyes, wanting to stay there forever. Sherry smelled like hot chocolate. She wrapped her blanket around Ohio's shoulders and mumbled words that didn't mean anything to her but still sounded like heaven. Sherry called her by her name, she called her Vera and told her it was okay, and that she didn't need to talk if she didn't want to and Vera was suddenly caught in a memory, so achingly similar to the present, where she was wrapped in her mother's arms crying hot tears and screaming her fears out through sentences disconnected by hiccups that she justified by telling herself that losing her dream to bent shards of metal and oil dripping down her shattered legs and the glassy stare of a girl she thought she could trust more than made up for the scene she was causing in the rehab ward.

Vera would never be able to dance again, would never be able to forgive herself or the alcohol coursing through her girlfriend's veins that night but she was strong enough not to break down in front of, possibly, the only woman who would ever love her back. She was a Freelancer, she was tough as hell. It would take a lot more than gift that wasn't even meant for her to bring her down. Vera wiped her eyes on the blanket and masked her reddened eyes with a smile so wide it crinkled the scar over her nose, thanked Sherry for the gift and handed a gift to Ezra, wrapped in paper adorned with tiny butterflies.

Ezra smiled softly at her, empathy practically radiating from him and he picked at the paper idly, watching Darryl eye Vera like she was about to explode. It hurt sometimes, knowing what she'd gone through but never being able to do anything for her. He tried once, he tried so hard but she was stubborn and he knew when to stop. Ezra only hoped someone like Sherry could make Vera smile and mean it. He hoped she could be happy.

A small laugh escaped his lips as he opened his present, tiny plastic hairclips dumped onto the floor all pinks and greens and purples with matching plastic butterflies on them. Ezra mustered up a sliver of courage and asked Darryl if he'd put a few in his hair, sneaking in a joking tone of voice as a fallback. Darryl moved to sit behind Ezra and fit all 24 hairclips somewhere on the mess of wavy hair he trailed behind him. They were both giggling by the time Mike dragged his helmet over and took a few pictures of them both, grinning at each other like idiots, their hands placed over one another's and not wanting to move.

Mike gave the room as a whole a very confused look when he opened the gift from Terrill and it turned out to be a bright yellow three-piece suit with a matching tie. Terrill collapsed into hysterics just thinking about who in the world would ever gift that to another person and then delved into yet another fit of laughter when he remembered that it was he who was unlucky enough to have picked that particular box to slide over to Mike and purposefully let his hands linger, just brushing against Mike's.

Vera was back to her old self by the time Darryl had gotten a gift from Ezra, a sizeable box of food themed socks, at which Ezra snorted hot cocoa through his nose and pouted for five minutes about it really hurting. Terrill almost teared up when he opened Mike's gift, a teddy bear the size of his torso with the phrase 'we love you' embroidered on the chest. Mike said it was really soft and used that as an excuse to hug Terrill with the bear between them. Vera smiled fondly at them and watched quietly as Darryl took his sweet time selecting a gift for Sherry, eventually settling on a tiny box simply wrapped in grey striped paper. Sherry raised an eyebrow at him as she peeled off the paper and opened the red velvet box underneath. Vera could practically see the reflection of a pair of matching diamond rings, no doubt for an engagement, in Sherry's eyes as she stared at them.

It took her a moment before she picked one of them out of the box and caught one of Vera's wrists. She guessed it might seem like like a coincidence to Vera, but she thought it was destiny. Vera was frozen in shock as Sherry helped her to stand so she could properly get down on one knee and propose like a real person.

"Vera, will you marry me?"


	2. The Stillness Before Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm in love with you."

Vera had to clear her throat three times before she answered. Sherry was kneeling through it all, smiling up at her like she hung the moon and stars. Vera's answer came as a surprise and a relief and Sherry scooped her up in a giant hug and twirled her around the room. Mike was clapping politely for them and Terrill was beaming like the world had just burst into color. He had his fingers intertwined with Mike's and everything was almost perfect, for a moment.

But, always, there was a bitter to the sweet.

Darryl was the first to head off to bed. The rest of them were still dividing up the supplies and he stood, stretched out his back and left the room without another word. Ezra watched him go, watched the slump of his shoulders and the shuffle of his normally confident step.

Ezra gave him two minutes alone before quietly getting up and slipping down the hallway after him.

The snowstorm hadn't let up and the Reds had commandeered the Blues' bedrooms for the time being. Which meant that they were sleeping in pairs on the already cramped beds. Great for Sherry and Vera, not so great for Ezra. Darryl was sitting on his bed when he walked in, picking at the old guitar he'd found in the scientist's base a while back. Ezra knew how to play a little, but he knew nothing compared to what Darryl was playing. It was almost discordant, melancholy, it made Ezra think of hope lost forever.

It was nearly enough to bring him to tears.

He sat on the bed tentatively, testing the waters, and scooted closer when Darryl didn't move. He didn't say anything, just sat while Darryl played. Ezra's knee bumped against Darryl's thigh and neither of them minded. Darryl stopped playing and his hand found Ezra's on the bed. Neither of them minded. Ezra leaned his head against Darryl's shoulder and sat close enough to be flush against him.

Neither of them minded.

* * *

Ezra awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of soft giggling from down the hall. He smiled to himself, happy that the girls were finally getting along where everyone could see them. Darryl shifted beside him and he realized that his arm was wrapped around Ezra's chest, the other gently holding his waist.

Ezra didn't fall asleep again. He just closed his eyes and focused on the warmth from Darryl. When the other man awoke, Ezra stirred from his spot like he too had just woken up and together they padded to the kitchen. No one else was up, them being the two members who regularly trained, and so the base was quiet save for the sound of Ezra's feet shuffling across the concert floor as he busied himself making coffee for them both.

Darryl gazed at him, his eyes focused on the curve of Ezra's shoulder or the way the muscles in his arm twisted when he moved it. The little things, the details, we're what made Darryl fall so hard. Ezra had a little quirk to his smile wherever he directed it at Darryl. He would cock his hips to the side whenever Vera started bickering about something stupid and he was about to launch a counter-tirade.

Ezra had eyes that reminded Darryl of the desert. Dusty and reddish, the color of the sand he used to kick up looking for lizards as a kid. Ezra had eyes that reminded him of home.

And Darryl was so homesick.

* * *

In the stillness just before dawn, when the snowstorm had passed and Ezra was sitting on the kitchen counter with Darryl leaning against him, something clicked. Or rather, it slid slowly into place. It had always been there, on a precipice, just waiting to be bumped or shaken. What Ezra felt for Darryl wasn't just aesthetic attraction or a passing crush. It was--

"I'm in love with you."


	3. Love Like...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Love feels like you."

Ezra asked Mike what he thought Love felt like. He asked it over breakfast, early in the morning before Vera snuck back into the base from her 'sleepover' with Sherry. She called it that like she thought her teammates were stupid. Like they didn't know what she really did over there.

Mike thought about Ezra's question for a long time. So long that Ezra had already finished breakfast and left the table and Mike himself had wandered around the base with nothing else to do by the time he thought of an answer. It was already growing dark outside, a sign that Mike had spent the whole day thinking about the answer. But, he really didn't want to tell Ezra his answer. It didn't feel right. But he still needed to tell someone. It was a good answer, the world needed to know.

And by the world, Mike of course meant Terrill.

* * *

Terrill was in his room, sitting at the window when Mike found him. From across the bridge Terrill almost seemed too far away. Mike wanted to see him. Closely. He picked up his flashlight from the bed and clicked a simple message to Terrill in Morse.

-.-. --- -- . / .... . .-. .  
come/here

Terrill looked up from his datapad and squinted at Mike. He tilted his head a bit and flashed Mike a message back.

.-. . .--. . .- -  
repeat

Mike tapped his flashlight against his palm. He hesitated.

-.-. --- -- . / .... . .-. . / .--. .-.. . .- ... .  
come/here/please

* * *

Terrill wrenched off his helmet as soon as the base doors closed behind him. Mike helped him out of his armor while be blabbed on about what Ezra had asked him that morning. Terrill's hands were cold and Mike pressed them to his cheeks to warm them up. Terrill smiled the way he did whenever Mike was in the room and together, whispers trailing behind them, they scrambled up the stairs to Mike's room.

Terrill didn't know where this was going. At least, it didn't seem to be going to the same place it usually did when Mike took him up to his room. They sat down on his bed, wrapped themselves in blankets and Mike told him what had happened in full detail. Ezra had asked him what Love felt like. And Mike had spent a long time thinking. Terrill could feel the butterflies in his stomach, a flurry of wings and anxious energy. He laid down on the bed and listened to Mike as he spoke, gesturing with his hands as if he'd disturb the dying light.

Mike knew what Love felt like. He knew it in his dreams, filled with feilds of golden grasses. Love felt like hay and soft grass beneath his feet. Love felt like the scratch of a pencil on paper and the soft tapping of fingertips on a datapad in the dead of night. Love felt like blushing and stutters and 'it's just my writing, you wouldn't like it.' Love felt like not quite healed skin and scar like an action movie star. Terrill had golden hair that was always dry and felt like hay. He had a scar that went through his mouth and his lips felt rough. Mike liked that, though, the feeling of Terril's lips against his own.

Terrill liked to write, too. He wrote about knights and castles and vampires and coffe shops and he wrote poems too. Poems about his dreams. Terrill reached over Mike's head to get his datapad from the bedside table. Terrill read him a poem about what Love felt like.

To Terrill, Love felt like the color of clay and thin silver scars and calloused hands. Love felt like grey-blue eyes and lashes against his cheeks and a bittersweet story behind every beautiful imperfection. Love felt like a smile, a voice he couldn't get out of his head, a four letter name and two cheap packets of hot cocoa mix in one cup because the tiny marshmallows were the best part. Love felt like perseverance, even in the face of disdain. Love felt like a special smile for every different thing. Love felt like holding hands in the middle of the night when no one was looking and morse code tapped out on his collarbone. Love was warm and deep and it protected him from the cold.

 ** _Love,_** to Mike, felt like Terrill. It felt like every moment that he spent with him and he never wanted it to end. _**Love,**_ to Terrill, felt like Mike. The feeling of his hands, the sound of his voice, the breaths he took when he pretended to be asleep. 

Terrill set down his datapad on the bedside table and rolled over in bed. He propped his cheek on his hand and watched Mike's eyes flick over his face.

"Love feels like you."

**Author's Note:**

> I never say this enough but thank you for reading my fics! Even if you don't comment or leave kudos, while those are much appreciated and warm my heart, you're still important and I love you and it makes me so happy to see the hit count go up.
> 
> That being said, let me know that you liked it! Kudos are so great and my heart skips a beat when I get that comment notification! ❤❤❤ If you like it, tell me! Then I can write more!
> 
> -
> 
> Hey, do you want to draw something for one of my fics? If so, just do it. I'd absolutely love to see it! You can find me on Tumblr @voiid-vagabond or email me at voiidvagabond@gmail.com Alternatively, you can just put a link in the comments and I will scream over how beautiful it is before putting it in the fic and screaming about you in the notes. ❤❤❤


End file.
